


It Was a Gut Feeling

by Wordprism



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Falling In Love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Secrets, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordprism/pseuds/Wordprism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told from Logan's perspective, a recap of their relationship from hatred to love.  "The best love happens by accident."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was a Gut Feeling

 

            I’m not sure of my mind anymore.  I’ve been through hell back in the wars, Weapon X, all that.  I lost a bunch of memories, and I never do know who to trust nowadays.  Half of ‘em are lying to get into my head.  Apparently having me on their side makes them feel valuable.

            I don’t know how, but I ended up at Xavier’s school.  Currently I spend my time teaching combat, a little bit of history from what I can remember.  I’m probably the closest thing to a primary source anyone’s had these days from the Civil and the first World War.  As long as it’s not Weapon X, I’m okay to talk about anything with the kids.  That, and dating advice.  Kid comes up to me a few days ago and asks me questions that even I wouldn’t know how to properly answer.  Just sent him off with a Rice Krispie Treat and remembered how to breathe again.  That was a close one.

            I did get quite a bit of attention from the women, which you’d think I’d love to grow used to, but that’s really not my thing.  Slim was always the one letting the ladies hang off his arms and faint as his feet.  Guess he never got much attention as a kid.  I, on the other hand, have had a good decade allowing myself to mess around.  It got boring. Boring beyond belief.

            I had no intent of barging in like a maniac and controlling all the situations.  It’s like I woke up to people who marveled at me, even though it’s nothing different than they were used to seeing.  I guess leadership is packaged with the fact I’m almost three hundred years old. Three hundred.  I’ll have to check, but I don’t think Carvel candles reach that high.  Shame.

            Anyways, Scott immediately felt the need to defend his territory.  I guess me grabbing him by the neck the first time he reached out to shake my hand put us off on the wrong foot.  But I expected a different reaction from him.  He wasn’t intimidated, he just stared at me blankly with no resistance until I let him go.  Either he was better at messing with people than I was, or he honestly just didn’t care.  It only occurred to me a while later that maybe he didn’t mind getting thrown around every now and then.  Nobody else dared pissing him off.  On that day I made one solemn vow, however. I know I walk around in ripped jeans and sweaty tanks most of the time, but damn… that preppy sweater burned my eyes so much I think I felt the Adamantium in my head start to melt.  I promised myself I would burn it.  Throw it out.  Or claw it to shreds.  And although not in the… setting… I expected, I did eventually get rid of it.

            I kept my distance from Cyke.  I felt kind of sorry that he was trying to be a clean cut, gentleman kinda guy, and everyone was looking at him like he was a self-centered snob because he didn’t take a liking to me.  He had this dry sense of humor, sometimes leaving me without a comeback.  Man, that was almost worse than having my memory wiped.  But what I did notice, was that after he made a sarcastic remark that left me speechless, his lips curled into this devilish little smirk that made me wanna’ dropkick him all the way back to Alaska or wherever the hell he’s from. 

As his comebacks always evolved to top my insults, I realized he didn’t smirk afterwards anymore.  It’s like he was exhausted from arguing.  I gave him the middle claw once, which I did almost every other day.  The first time he laughed at it like I was kidding, which made me more irritated than a cat with a sock over its face.  I think I was the only one to realize he felt a little threatened, dejected, and a bit frightened that I was taking the place he had worked so hard to achieve.  I felt horrible, cause that certainly wasn’t my goal.  I wasn’t gonna tell anyone that though.  The other times he gave a snarky reply followed by that ever so taunting grin of his.  I’d bet all the money in the world that his eyes lit up brighter too.  I never caught on to how quickly that smirk began to fade after a while. Until I gave him the claw and sneered humorously, which I was unable to hold as he parted his lips loosely and let out a sigh like I hadn’t heard before.  “Don’t poke your eye out,” he muttered in a monotone voice, turning back towards his classroom. Was he jealous that the attention ratio was shifting from him to me?  Normally I’d say tough luck, but I couldn’t bring myself to think that without a tad of guilt.  Maybe he was just protecting his team, doing what leaders do.

He was oddly hostile in his speaking when he was around me, however.  I’m almost positive everyone thought he was just keeping control over his household, which made sense to the others, but not to me.  When he averted his gaze, I just got this gut feeling maybe he was glancing back at me.  Because his head always turned away, but never enough so that he wouldn’t be able to spot me from the corner of his eye.  Damn those glasses and damn that visor for being so conveniently annoying. Never allowing me to know for sure.  And I’m sure this is just because I’m extremely alert about everything I hear, smell and see, no other reason, but Scott seemed kind of unhappy.

  I saw the way he was teaching from the hallway through the window.  He was a great educator, really.  The kids listened to him and he got his point across swiftly and accurately.  I stopped to glance into the classroom.  Algebra.  God, I’d tear apart whatever idiot incorporated letters into math.  _Find x._   It’s right there in the sentence, dumbass.  Slim must’ve glanced over and caught sight of me, because as soon as I turned and continued walking without looking up, it took him a few moments to regain his train of thought and start speaking again.  I never thought I’d know why I flustered him so much.

Soon, I felt like taking a break.  You can’t blame me for never staying in one place too often.  I grow attached mentally and emotionally after a while like anyone else, and then I have to watch people I love get brutally murdered somehow.  You all know that story by now.  I got on my bike and drove down the neat gravel road, not as compelled as I usually was to rev the engine and watch the back wheel spit up pebbles at Scott’s bike and or car.  I swear I heard him sigh as I walked out the door, and that I saw the curtains fall closed the moment I looked back one last time at the house.

I was back within a week though.  When I walked back inside, I got welcomed by everyone except Scott.  No nod, no hello, no nothing.  I would’ve said it’s his time of the month again, but it pains me to even think things like that about him.  He didn’t do shit to me.  Never.

That night, I rolled over in my bed, my mind forcing me awake when I heard sounds coming from downstairs.  I remember once I wasted an hour of sleep trying to find a spider in the room whose heartbeat I could hear pounding through the wall.  I’m telling you. It’s torture.

Pulling my jeans on over my boxers, I slipped down the stairs and followed the noises into the kitchen. Leaning in the doorway, I saw Summers sitting there at the table.  He was facing the other direction so that only I could see him.  I squinted curiously at the time on the microwave, then back at Scott, who had a bottle of beer next to his elbow as he rested his face in his palms.  Who the hell comes downstairs for beer at three in the morning?  Really?  He had on his boxers and a white tee, taking another sip of his drink.  I heard his trembling sigh bounce off the walls on the inside of the bottle.  It was that kind of breathing that said ‘Don’t you dare cry.’  I swear, I only breathed and before I knew it Scott shot up and turned around to face me, almost tripping back over the chair.  He steadied himself and then backed away.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I explained I could also ask him the exact same question since I wasn’t the one sitting in the kitchen drinking in the middle of the night.  “Did something happen?” I questioned him, curious but also genuinely concerned.  He looked like he hadn’t had sleep in days.

Scott slowly set the bottle down and nodded as if he were trying to keep calm.  Man, he sucked at pretending he was alright.  “Everything’s… Everything is fine.”

You see, normally a guy who says he’s fine means it as the literal translation.  Here with Scott, I knew by his wet cheeks and weakly quivering lips that he wasn’t fine.  So I approached him.  He tensed at first and then timidly allowed me to crane my neck down and find his gaze.  “You gonna tell me what you’re shitting yourself over?”  Compassion was really not my thing.  No need to remind me.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he emphasized again, his tone a growl I’d never heard before.  His hair was messy, like he’d been tossing and turning all night.  He also had that guilt face of a teenager who’s mom just found his stash of magazines under his bed.  Slim was stronger than I imagined.  The way he put his hands on my bare chest and shoved me back took me by surprise.  I reached out to grab him again and make him face me.  I’ve never seen anyone struggle and run off so fast.  Like a damn roadrunner!  All my hands caught were the wind as he rushed out of my grip.  Stunned, I stood and watched from the window as he sped down the stairs and out onto the driveway, pebbles sticking to the bottom of his bare feet as he opened his car door. That had to hurt.  I’ll never forget the time one of the kids left Legos all over the hallway and I almost burst into tears when I stepped down on one.  Scott pulled his shirt up to his face like a napkin. _The bastard was crying._ He drove off and returned an hour later. He figured I was asleep, but instead I watched from the living room as he entered through the back door.  I raised my brows and looked at him frozen in shock when he saw me.  Since this wasn’t relationship related, I wasn’t sure what was going on.

Now, Scott had been with Jean, Elizabeth, and Emma.  His last relationship ended a year ago with a pretty intense breakup I never bothered finding out too much about.  I just remember arriving for the first time and noticing things weren’t working out for him, and I was right because he was single again three weeks later.  All I remember was Emma walking around wondering what had gone wrong.  She was as confused as everyone else.  That’s when it hit me.  Everything suddenly made sense.  He was rude to me to protect himself from me possibly finding out how he felt.  And holy crap, I was so close to figuring him out, but I never made that final connection.  I sighed at the thought of what I was about to do, but I took a few steps until he had to look up towards me.  “You’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

Scott began to spew nonsense and once again fought to push me away.  Biting my lip, I caught his forearms as he aimed to push me away, wrapping his arms around the back of my neck as I grabbed his face and pressed my lips up against his.  I felt bad for him, I really did.  Except I wasn’t being honest with myself.  By the time our lips had silenced and I was holding his chin in my hand, it occurred to me that it wasn’t pity any longer.  Because I felt something, and I wanted more.  I truly did.  If memory serves me correctly, punny word choice I know, I told him he was beautiful.  I still don’t know where that came from, or what my reasoning was, but it just felt right.  I had no regrets seeing him beside me when I woke the next morning.

\-------------

 

            Today I wake, sitting up in my bed with the sheets draped loosely over me.  It smells like fall outside, the scent of trees losing their leaves filling my nose.  Looking out the window, I see the property of the X-mansion, several kids playing outside without a care in the world.  Summer is almost over, and the school season begins in a week or two.  Reaching for my glass of water on the nightstand, I beam, smiling down at the photographs standing neatly together. 

            The glass of water has condensation all over, and it actually feels kind of refreshing after being underneath the warm covers all night long.  I look at the photos from my wedding several months ago. 

I realized I was wrong all along and decided to change my mind for the better.  Some things just aren’t meant to be.  You feel like you want someone, but it just doesn’t work out.  It’s more of a one-time experiment in many cases.  Even if the first time makes you feel warm and loved, those kind of things often don’t continue.  Because since when has life actually given you everything you could ever want right?  But it’s different for me.  I made what I felt was the right choice, and no matter how gruff I try to act, everyone laughs at me since they know how happy and relaxed I really am inside.  I stare at the ruby glasses set gently on the table and turn back towards the window side of the room, pulling the covers down ever so gently so I can see him from the waist up.

Looking him over, I set my glass down and slide over the bed next to him, setting myself down lightly so as not to wake him.   I love being able to see him without his glasses, even if it’s just his eyelids.  I owe this man my life, for staying up all night no matter how many times I yelled at him not to as he whispered reassuringly into my ears while I panicked in my sleep about the horrifying dreams of the lab.  Hell, he even had to go to the hospital for stab wounds on several occasions.  I was crazy when I slept. Notice how I say ‘was’.  I haven’t had a dream about the wars or experimentation in months.  And for Christ’s sake, there he was bleeding in the hospital bed, taking my hand as I sat beside him and asking to see my claws.  I was reluctant at first until I realized he had kissed all three claws from bottom to top, top to bottom, one by one.  He was something else, and he still is.

I vowed to protect him with everything I’ve got.  Anyone lays a finger on him and I’ve got my blades at their throats.  It’s territorial I guess you could say.  He told me I wasn’t an animal.  That I only called myself that because they said it so often I began to fall for it.  As he sleeps quietly and peacefully like a baby, I run my hand slowly through his warm chestnut brown locks of hair.  He smiles in his sleep as I do, making me press my lips into the same facial expression.  I lean down and kiss his eyelids, knowing we trust each other not to harm one another.  We have no fear.  Knowing he’s still deeply asleep, I drag the back of my hand carefully and lightly down his cheek and jawline, caressing his smooth skin.  His facial features are so well sculpted and striking, I’ve always noticed that.  Especially when he locks his arms within mine and holding my hands, and falls asleep with his nose touched to mine.

I kiss his toned, slim shoulder as he turns his head the slightest bit into the pillow.  He always sleeps so quietly, his breathing barely audible as I tend to snore like a lion.  God, he’s precious.  The most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “I love you,” I whisper against his cheek, tears almost falling from my eyes. That’s how you know I’ve really fallen for him. He makes _me_ cry. If anything ever happened to him or someone ever hurt him I don’t know what I’d do.  Probably leave them alive as I spilled their innards.  But he isn’t harmed or stressed, so I refuse to focus on that idea.  He told me himself that he feels safe with me.  I can see it in those gorgeous eyes of his.  I touch my lips to his radiating skin one last time before draping the covers back up to his chest, and standing to go to the balcony to have a morning smoke.  I’m down to one a day.  I promised Scott before he could ask that I’d stop.  Because we’re adopting in a few months, and better safe than sorry.  I inhale the smoke from my cigar, leaning on the railing and looking out over the sunrise.  _The best kind of love happens by accident._


End file.
